Things That Go Bump In The Night
by BuryTheHatchet
Summary: Tony and Ziva on stakeout after Somalia. That is all there is to it really.
**I have been absent for a few days. Sorry about that. But I have been working on a few things. Or a lot of things, but they are all multi-fics, which means that they will not be uploaded until they are finished, which might take a while. It takes two is still continuing, but I have again hit some writers block. I have no idea where the Jell-O case is going.**

 **This is a short one for me.**

Things That Go Bump In The Night

"It's okay, I'll keep an eye on things. You can sleep." Tony smiled caringly as she yawned.

"I am fine." She shook her head before yawning again.

"No, you're not." He narrowed his eyes at her. She hadn't seemed the same, not since they brought her home from Somalia. Not even the strongest, toughest, most well trained of agents could have come out unscathed from what Saleem put her through. "When was the last time you slept? Properly slept?"

"I do not know." She shrugged, pointing the camera at the door that opened across the street, groaning when it wasn't the petty officer who exited but an older guy. "I hate stakeouts."

"So you delight in telling me." He looked at her. "Get some sleep." He pointed to the single in the corner. "I promise I won't pull any pranks on you."

She glared at him but moved over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and swinging her legs up. "Alright. Just a short nap."

"Of course." He walked over as her eyes closed to the world and he pulled the blankets up to her chin. "Goodnight, Ziva." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stepped back over to the window, picking up the binoculars and continuing with the long night of watching and waiting. He allowed his mind to wander, finding it's way back to his partner, sleeping in the bed in the corner. He was worried about her, but whenever he tried to talk to her she shut him out. But then, that was Ziva. Not exactly one for the personal stuff. He had spent so much time thinking she was dead, that she had gone down with the Damocles. In that time he had realised just how much he needed her. She made everything easier. Life ran smoother when she was around. Well – life ran, at least. He had meant it, when he said he couldn't live without her, but she didn't seem to understand that. It was his fault that she had been strapped to the chair, beaten, abused, violated. He would admit that he was jealous when Rivkin had opened her door, but that wasn't the reason he had shot him. He shot him to protect her. In his misguided way, he thought he was doing the right thing, keeping her safe, but in fact it had resulted with her going to hell and back, being put through unimaginable pain and torture. Her physical wounds, the visible ones, were healing and fading, but the ones below the surface, the ones that weren't so easy to see, they were still raw. It was always the invisible scars that took the longest to heal. She'd tried to hide it. She'd started wearing softer, more feminine clothes, lighter blouses as apposed to the heavy, more practical shirts. But he could still see the wounds behind her eyes. He could still see past the false smiles and mild reassurances.

He was brought out of his revere by her panicked screams. He rushed over to her side, kneeling down and placing a hand on her forehead. "Shh, shh. It's okay. It's all okay." He soothed, trying to calm her down. Her eyes flew open and her cries grew momentarily more frantic until he moved away, giving her space. "It's alright. It's just me. Just Tony."

"Tony?" He had never seen her so fragile. She had been broken in Somalia, but there was still a strength to her voice. Now, it was like she had been pieced together and messily fixed with sticky tape. When she was broken, she couldn't become more broken – the little pieces were simply too small. But now the fracture lines left the possibility, and therefore the fear, that she could be crushed again.

"I'm here, Ziva. I'm here." He took her hand and gently rubbed circles on the back with his thumb. "He's dead. It's okay. He can't hurt you anymore."

"Yes he can, Tony. He can still hurt me when I sleep."

"It'll get better with time." He locked his fingers with hers. "I promise."

"But how can you know?" She looked up at him uncertainly, her eyes pleading with his.

"Because I'll be there to protect you." He brushed a thumb across her cheekbone as she smiled weakly. "You can call me, Ziva. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I'll always be there. I'll always pick up and I'll always do my best to stop whatever it is that's hurting you."

* * *

Gibbs opened the door to the bare, empty apartment to see that the desk was empty, along with the two seats at the window. So much for stay inside and stay watching. His gaze fell upon the single bed in the corner, Ziva curled up in Tony's strong embrace. She appeared more relaxed than he had seen her since Somalia, maybe even before that, before he and McGee went to LA. Tony seemed fairly content as well, with his arms wrapped around his partner so tightly that Gibbs thought he'd never let go. McGee clomped up the stairs behind him and he turned around, putting a finger to his lips and silencing his younger agent before pointing to the bed.

"Uh, Boss?"

"Shh. They're sleeping." Gibbs glared at him.

"I can see that, Boss, but why aren't we waking them?"

"It's the first time she's slept in a while McGee. Besides, it'll stop you from going on about all your computer doo-dahs." He smiled to himself, walking over to the window and setting up for the day.

 **For my reference: 25** **th** **NCIS fic.**


End file.
